


Enter the Alchemist

by LunasWufei



Series: Snippets and Fix-Its [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21622711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunasWufei/pseuds/LunasWufei
Summary: Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Harry Potter or anything associated.I have seen it done a few times, and like some other ideas I have written, I had to try my own. It is kind of a pattern in my stories, but I like giving Harry rare, or completely overpowered abilities, or making him a prodigy or something. I like it, what can I say? Enjoy if you can.
Relationships: Nicholas Flamel/Perenelle Flamel (Nicholas Flamel)
Series: Snippets and Fix-Its [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556170
Comments: 3
Kudos: 134





	Enter the Alchemist

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Harry Potter or anything associated. 
> 
> I have seen it done a few times, and like some other ideas I have written, I had to try my own. It is kind of a pattern in my stories, but I like giving Harry rare, or completely overpowered abilities, or making him a prodigy or something. I like it, what can I say? Enjoy if you can.

"Blast! I cannot seem to get this right." Said a rather disgruntled Dumbledore, as his latest cauldron was a vibrant orange before the contents evaporated and returned the cauldron to normal. He got up to start again before a hand was placed on his shoulder, making him turn to the owner of said hand. 

  
  


"Albus, this is your 5th attempt in the last three hours. Sit, relax, have some tea." Spoke Albus' old, literally and figuratively, friend Nicholas Flamel. Dumbledore sighed and nodded, taking a seat with a bit of a pout, but it was a dignified one. 

  
  


"Nicholas, how long did it take you?" Asked the older looking male, taking a sip of tea after thanking the elf that provided it. 

  
  


"Hmmm... a good, solid thousand tries, Albus. It is not an easy potion, and I learned that I managed my successful try thanks to luck. I managed to replicate it, but still, it was no easy feat." Flamel said as he smiled at his friend, sipping his tea and leaning back. 

  
  


"One Thousand?! I don't think I have the years left for that, my friend. But, alas, perhaps it is not something that I am to manage in my remaining years." Dumbledore said, a smile on his face, serene almost. "I will just have to admire your work. Though, I will try and work it out every few weeks or so." He nodded and him and Nicholas spent a good twenty minutes or so in silence. The silence was broken when Dumbledore thought of something, something that perhaps Nicholas would be impressed with. 

  
  


"I recently, within the last few years or so, managed to erect love powered Blood Wards, my old friend." Dumbledore said with not smugness, but pride. That feeling increased tenfold when Nicholas' eyes snapped to his, wide in surprise and curiosity. 

  
  


"Truly, Albus? Blood wards?" Nicholas asked, enthusiasm coating his tone. Sure, he was almost 700 years old, but he was still a child at heart sometimes, especially with what he considered interesting. 

  
  


"Yes, my friend, blood wards. Would you like to see where?" Dumbledore asked, knowing that he could trust his old friend. He was purely neutral, for the most part at least, but he would never go against the light. 

  
  


"Yes, yes! Let us go now. Use my magic to apparate us, I am sure it is quite a distance." Nicholas said, and then he got up with Albus, taking his arm gently, and with a gathering of their combined magic they were gone in a near silent ~pop~.

  
  


~ETA~

  
  


Privet Drive was the definition of your normal, suburban street. Quiet, for the most part, friendly by the looks of it, and down right boring. No house, however, was more boring and normal than Number 4. The lawn was immaculate, the windows spotless, not a spec of dirt to be seen, and the car outside in the parking spot was just the same. As a matter of fact, it was still lightly dripping from a recent wash. It was near dusk, dinner time for most in the neighborhood, so not an eye was on the street when a near silent ~pop~ broke the silence. 

  
  


"Blood wards in a muggle area, Albus? They must be tethered to a rather strong magical." Nicholas said, more of a mumble, but Albus caught it. He then directed his old friend to the overly normal, overly boring house. "Here? Surely you jest... the wards here are... moderate, and I am being generous." The older wizard took his wand out, starting to mumble and cast silently in the air, leaving Albus to put up muggle notice-me-nots. He frowned at what he found, and with a flick of his wand, switched the clothes of him and his traveling companion to that of a muggle wear. 

  
  


"Nicholas?" Asked Albus, as said man was making his way to the door, curiosity having gotten the better of him. He got up to the door just as it was opened, by a short, thin, and rather scruffy looking young boy. He couldn't have been more than 5, at the most. 

  
  


"Can I help you, sirs?" Came the almost timid voice of one Harry Potter, and Nicholas knew it immediately. He had been there when the boy was born, having been delivering some potions to a friend of his at St. Mungo's. He had kept in touch with James and Lily, and had be saddened by their unfortunate deaths, having considered taking Lily as an apprentice. He smiled softly, as to not startle the boy, and spoke.

  
  


"Yes, yes you can young man. I am looking for the master, or mistress of the house, can you get them for me?" Nicholas asked, looking respectable in his suit, making the boy hesitate that much less. He had always been told that men in suits were to be respected. He nodded softly, excused himself, and closed the door. Nicholas sent a listening charm to the window, where he assumed the kitchen was from the direction he heard the boy walk. Growling low in his throat at what he heard, startling his friend beside him. 

  
  


" _ Who was it,  _ boy _? _ " Came the voice of whom he assumed was the man of the house, and after getting no answer for at least 5 seconds, he heard a slap. " _ Well, speak up! _ " There had been a cry of pain and then the voice of Harry Potter spoke again, slightly wavering. 

  
  


" _ Two men in nice suits, Uncle Vernon. He wanted to speak with the master or mistress of the house. _ " The boy said, and Nicholas heard another yelp after a slap, and then a gentle thud to the floor. 

  
  


" _ Good, you're not completely stupid, not like that layabout of man who was your father. Both of them, utterly useless. _ " Vernon grumbled before he got up, the chair he had been sitting on almost sighing in relief. " _ Well, to your cupboard, boy. Can't have respectable men stained by your presence. _ " There was another sound, probably a kick to the child, before there was a scampering and then a small door shutting. The charm was taken down just as the door was opened. 

  
  


"And how can I he-" That was as far as Vernon Dursley got before he was literally blasted back into his house, the angry form of the oldest Mage on the planet stepping into the house. His suit morphing back into it's original green and gold robes, his wand in his hand sparking at it's tip. Albus came in after, shutting the door and throwing up privacy wards. 

  
  


"How dare you hit that child for delivering a message? How dare you lay your hands upon a child who simply was being polite to you, and me!? I should turn you into a frog and use you for potions ingredients." Nicholas hissed out, magic crackling around him, turning pictures to ash and cracking the walls. 

  
  


"Nicholas! Calm yourself! Do not fall into darkness, my old friend." Albus said, getting the heated glare of his mentor turned in his direction. Nicholas flicked his wand almost lazily at the corpulent man on the floor causing him to be bound in heavy ropes, causing him no small measure of discomfort. 

  
  


"Why did you bring Harry Potter, of all people, to live with these muggles?" Nicholas asked Albus. He did not say muggles with disdain, but the word before it was laced with venom. "He should have been brought to a loving family, surely there were those who would care for him?" He hissed, and Albus flinched softly. The last time he had his mentor's ire he was barely a man of 40. 

  
  


"It is how I was able to place the wards, Master Flamel, the man's wife is his aunt by blood. Petunia Evans, now Dursley." Albus spoke softly, using the proper term to address Nicholas, out of respect for his ire. Dumbledore was powerful, and experienced in his own right, but this man had at least five hundred years on him. 

  
  


"Petunia Evans!" Bellowed Nicholas, his rage palpable, turning back to the man who was not being looked over by a rather lanky woman. Petunia looked up, fearful and whimpering softly. Robes, wands, ambient fluctuations in the air. These two men were wizards, and the one in green was livid. 

  
  


"I-I am she." Petunia said, whimpering at the snarl and then yelping as Vernon was lifted and moved the den. He turned to her and glanced at the couch, making her scamper to it. 

  
  


"Where is Harry Potter?" Nicholas asked in a tone that was deceptively calm. 

  
  


"In his r-room." Petunia managed to say through her fear, and after a glare and low growl she corrected herself. "His cupboard! Under the stairs!" She whimpered then bellowed out again. "BOY! Come to the den!" She was then silenced with a spell, and Nicholas and Albus heard a small click and then hurried, though soft, footfalls. 

  
  


"Yes Aunt Petunia." Came the timid tones of Harry Potter, head down, hands in front of himself. He looked up at the oddly warm feeling that enveloped him, and Albus watched in serene awe as he felt his mentor's magic swirl and envelop the young child. 

  
  


"Hello again young man, my name is Nicholas Flamel." Said the ancient man, coming over and kneeling softly with a smile on his face. "What is your name?" He asked. Sure, he knew it, but it was good to let the child speak. Harry did as he was asked, always told to be polite to strangers in the house.

  
  


"H-Harry Potter, Sir. I am eight years old, a-and I am happy and healthy here." Harry said, the last bit was obviously rehearsed, but it was almost believable. It would have been believable if Nicholas didn't hear the way he was treated, or the clothing that was at least three sizes too large. There was a small bruise forming on his cheek where he had been slapped, and Nicholas was quick to brandish his wand and take care of it. Harry flinched at the quick motion, and stiffened at the magic washing over him, but then gasped as the pain faded. 

  
  


"Well, Harry, I do not believe that is the truth, but I do not blame you for lying to me." Nicholas said, and he was holding in his fury, doing his best to keep his temper from boiling over like a ruined potion. He turned his gaze to Petunia, then to Dumbledore. "My good friend here, Mr. Dumbledore, will be doing his best to make sure you go to a nice home." he said, and looked back at the boy, about to speak again when Dumbledore cleared his throat. 

  
  


"I am sure we can find a suitable home. Perhaps the Weasley's, or the Longbottoms, maybe even... the Diggory's." Albus said, nodding lightly but then getting a gentle hum from Nicholas. 

  
  


Nicholas thought, and then smiled at the boy, genuine as he saw the hope in the eyes of said child. "My dear wife, Pernelle, would just love to take care of a child again. Our last child was so long ago. Would you like that, Harry?" He asked, and then chuckled softly, good heartedly, when he was nearly barreled over by the eager, hopeful child. Muffled yes's in his robes as he was clung tightly to. 

  
  


"I can see that the matter is settled then, don't you think, Albus?" Nicholas asked, standing with the child in his arms. The child that clung to him as if he was vanish. 

  
  


"Ah, yes... I do believe so. I shall stay here and take care of everything, of course." Said Dumbledore, not about to deny his mentor anything, especially when he could still feel the rage boiling beneath his skin from the short distance he stood away. 

  
  


"Take a deep breath and hold it, Harry. That's a good boy." Nicholas said as he felt Harry inhale, and then with a spin they were gone. Dumbledore let go of the sigh as he turned to the two muggles that were restrained in their own way, shaking his head and taking his wand out, he had work to do.

  
  
  


~ETA~

  
  


To say that the next few years of Harry's life was amazing would be an understatement, if you asked the child himself of course. He soaked in all of the love and affection the Flamel's gave him, not to mention all of the knowledge he was actually allowed to take in. It was touch and go at first, so used to a male and female figure in his life being cruel, and terrible, but he learned quickly these two were far from that. He learned not only mundane things, as Pernelle preferred to refer to them, but magic as well. He knew he had been different, but now he had a name for it, and he loved that as well. He read history books, spellbooks, anything he could get his hands on. The best part about it all, aside from being encouraged to learn and grow, was that he was allowed to call them mom and dad. That filled up a hole in his soul he had ached with for years, it brought tears to his eyes when he was told he was officially, not just in name, a Flamel. Harry Potter-Flamel. It wasn't just on paper either, that was something the Flamels learned a scant year before Hogwarts. 

  
  


~ETA~

  
  


"Fah! I feel like Albus!" Nicholas grumbled, chuckling to himself as his wife and son came into his lab. One former with tea and the latter with snacks. 

  
  


"Oh, don't be so rude, Nicky. You've been trying that potion for decades. Relax, you'll get it." His wife, Pernelle smiled and kissed his cheek after her words, setting the tea down on an adjacent table as he turned the workstation back to stage one. 

  
  


"I suppose so. Ah! Your biscuits, Harry? They are always so delicious." The elder male in the room beamed, and he was being completely truthful. Harry was a marvel in the kitchen, though Pernelle insisted to be in the kitchen should he ever decide to cook, but when he did he enjoyed it. His biscuits were a favorite of the family, and as they enjoyed the tea and biscuits Nicholas noticed Harry looking over at the workstation, sending glances and nibbling his lower lip. 

  
  


"Hmm, aspiring to be an alchemist, Harry?" His father asked him, causing the young child to flush gently. "I see no harm in trying your hand at it, though that might be a bit of an advanced solution for you to try." He smiled softly, then gave a soft chuckle at the look of determination in the young child's eyes. He always felt he had to prove himself, though he understood that some things you had to leave to the adults. 

  
  


"What do you think, Pernelle? Shall we let our boy give alchemy a shot? Both of us here of course to watch him." Flamel said, looking at his wife of 500+ years. She sighed, a tad bit dramatically, before smiling. 

  
  


"Hmm, I don't see why not. I'll have a shield at the ready should we need it. I know you forget to apply one sometimes." Pernelle said, she grinned at his huff, and he subconsciously rubbed a scar on his his bicep from years prior. 

  
  


"Of course, of course. We can't have our boy hurting himself." Nicholas said, before standing and conjuring a stool so Harry could stand and work. Harry was ecstatic, and ran out of the room to wash his hands before he came back in potion making clothes, as he called them. They were covered in stains and some burns, but he loved them. 

  
  


"Ready!" Harry said, getting up on the stool and then thanking his father when the recipe hovered in front of him, as did the ingredients to be in arm's reach. 

  
  


"Now. This particular solution is meant to transmute the fundamental properties of magically conjured air into that of magically conjured earth. Said earth would be invaluable in the growing of herbs for potions. It would revolutionize potion making, making them cheaper and easier to create for everyone. Take your time, of course. There is no rush, and do not be upset if you fail, my boy." Flamel said, the last sentence with a gentle squeeze to his son's shoulders. 

  
  


Harry went to work, and as it was his first time doing anything in regards to alchemy, he failed. He failed for a solid week, at least twice a day, but he was determined. Every day, however, Nicholas and Perenelle saw the solution get clearer, to the point that on the 7th day it had matched Nicholas' 70 years of attempts. He bit his lip softly, the three of them did actually, when Harry added the bit of magically bottled air into the solution. There was a flash and then all that was left in the cauldron was dirt. Not just normal dirt though, no, it was imbued with magic. Harry sighed softly and was about to reset it when his father grabbed his hand.

  
  


"NO! No..." Flamel said, but he calmed down, seeing he had startled his son. "It's perfect, Harry. By the gods, it is perfect." He looked in the cauldron, smiling widely. "What I had not done in seventy years, you have done in seven days. My boy, you are a genius… a prodigy." The elder alchemist said, and gave his son a hug, and then the boy got one from his mother. 

  
  


"If you so desire, you can recreate this for the masses, or you can teach your old man to do it. Either way, the discovery is yours, my son." Nicholas said, and then he smiled and then the three of them went to celebrate, leaving the completed experiment in stasis, the first of many accomplishments in the young boy's future. 

  
  


~ETA~

  
  


Harry sat at his workstation, putting the finishing touches on his latest project, one he had kept a secret from his parents. Not that he wanted to do things without their knowledge, but he wanted it to be a surprise. He just dropped the last bit of Unicorn blood, freely given, in his cauldron before he heard a gentle tapping at his window. He blinked softly then smiled at the owl waiting patiently for him at his window, going to open it up for said owl. The bird flapped over to the perch that was currently sitting a magnificent snowy owl, getting a soft bark of agitation from said owl. 

  
  


"Sorry, Hed, probably my Hogwarts letter." Harry said to the agitated owl, getting a huff before she went back to sleep. He rolled his eyes and gently stroked the brown barn owl, letting it get some water before it flew off after he took the letter. 

  
  


_ Mr. H. Potter-Flamel _

_ Personal Potions Laboratory _

_ Alchemists Haven _

_ Unknown _

  
  


Harry smiled, opening the letter and reading it over quickly, before he pocketed it. He then went back to his cauldron, watching it simmer and then come to a rapid, furious boil, and then it settled. Slowly, but surely, it reduced, and then coalesced into a brilliant, blood red stone. He had done it, he had replicated his father’s greatest alchemical work. He picked it up, it was cool to the touch, and sighed softly. It had taken his father almost a century of work, and Harry had done it in a year. He knew his father would be surprised, and proud of him. He couldn’t wait to show his parents! He cleaned the cauldron, putting his stone in one of his many, enlarged pockets on his potion’s robes, and then went to lunch. 

  
  


“So the dungeon troll emerges!” Pernelle said, causing Harry to blush as he took off his coat and put in on the back of his chair, going to kiss her cheek and wash his hands. 

  
  


“I prefer dungeon goblin, mum, I am not tall enough to be a troll.” Harry replied, before getting a scoff from his father, who was putting a letter down. 

  
  


“Not yet you’re not, sprouting like a weed.” Nicholas muttered, before smiling. “Get some good work done, son?” He asked, and Harry nodded. 

  
  


“Yeah dad, working on some older stuff, to keep it fresh.” Harry said, before taking out his Hogwarts letter.

  
  


‘It took long enough! You turned eleven two weeks ago!” His father said, and Harry smiled. 

  
  


“Nicholas, hush, you know the wards make it difficult.” His mother said, and his father shrugged. “Still, it is a good thing we got everything the next day, always good to be prepared.” She said, and the two males in the room nodded. Nicholas then frowned gently, stroking his chin. 

  
  


“Albus is asking me again, Pernelle.” Nicholas said, and his wife sighed. “It would help, and we’d be able to help our people.” He said, and she grumbled, before Harry tilted his head. 

  
  


“What is the headmaster asking for, dad?” Harry asked, and his parents shared a look, before his mother nodded. 

  
  


“My stone, Harry.” Nicholas said, and Harry blinked, and then he caught on. “He wants it to lure the dark lord to Hogwarts, so he can capture him.” He said, and Harry frowned. 

  
  


“What… what if he gets it?” Harry asked, and while he knew his father had made the stone, it was not perfect. It was easily destroyed, and not so easily replicated. Harry had done it, he was a prodigy, but it had taken him a year. 

  
  


“I am sure he would not make it past the wards of Hogwarts, my son.” Nicholas said, before going on. “I could probably set some runes on it, so it would shatter if in the wrong hands.” He mused, whispering almost. 

  
  


“NO!” Harry nearly screamed, standing up. “I will not let you give up your lives for that!” The pre-teen said, sniffling softly. “You… no. Please… say no.” Harry pleaded, in the arms of his mother once he had sniffled. 

  
  


“My son… it would be alright. We have enough elixir for quite some time.” Nicholas said, trying to placate his son. The boy sniffled softly, his eyes a whirl with something… something odd, and almost guilty… and then he spoke. 

  
  


“Use mine.” Harry said simply, and when his parents frowned he wriggled from his mother’s grip, reaching into his coat and pulling out the perfect stone. “I… I finished it before lunch. It’s keyed to me alone. To my blood.” Harry said, looking up with tear streaked eyes. “He would never be able to use it for his own gains, ever.” The boy said, his father picking up the stone during his words. 

  
  


“How… long were you working on this, my son?” The elder alchemist asked, awed at this achievement. He had shown his son the stone almost two years ago, surely it was not that short of a time? 

  
  


“Uhm… eleven months, give or take a week.” Harry said, his father’s surprise gaze snapping to him. 

  
  


“Merlin’s beard, Harry!” Nicholas exclaimed. “It took me almost a hundred and ten years for my stone, and it is not nearly as perfect as this…” He said, looking at the stone again, then at his son. “I couldn’t take such an achievement from you. It is yours… you have earned it.” He said, and then his mother spoke up, having hugged him again. 

  
  


“You’ve also earned a wee bit of punishment, my son.” Pernelle said, and he flinched. “That was a dangerous thing you did, but we are proud of you.” She kissed his cheek after her words, and he nodded. 

  
  


“I think the next two days out of the laboratory, should suffice.” Nicholas said, and Harry slumped, but he understood. His wife nodding in agreement, before the older male sat down again. “Still, my son… a philosopher’s stone at your age, magnificent!” He beamed, the three sitting down to discuss what would be going on this year with the stones. 

  
  


~ETA~

Harry was nervous, he would freely admit to that, but he was excited. He was going to Hogwarts, to learn and interact with children his age. He would make friends, probably some enemies too, but he would do his best to make more of the first. He walked with his parents through the floo, appearing on the platform and drawing a bit of attention. Most of it, however, was on his parents. They were, after all, the oldest magicals on the planet. Through a ritual, after an unsettling discovering, the darkness that had plagued Harry’s head, was gone, and his scar shortly after.

  
  


“Harry, my son.” Nicholas said, and then continued after getting said boy’s attention. “Make friends, but don’t let yourself be manipulated or used. You are a Potter, but you are also a Flamel. Remember that, and you will go far.” He said, and then gave his son a hug, who returned it in earnest. 

  
  


“If I do not hear from you in the next week, I will storm the castle and give you kisses in front of all of your friends.” His mother, Pernelle, said. He blushed softly, but nodded and gave her a hug, before they watched him go into the train, looking for a compartment. They sighed softly, seeing another one of their children off to Hogwarts. They waited until the train was moving, and he was past them after a wave, before they disappeared together. The house would feel empty, but they knew he would be happy. 

  
~ETA~

  
  


Harry spent most of the train ride reading, and oddly enough he was not bothered until about three quarters of the way to Hogwarts, when a knock on his door startled him. He looked over his half-moon spectacles as the door opened, his green eyes latching onto the dark brown ones of the first of two girls who entered the compartment. 

  
  


“Can I help you, ladies?” Harry asked, and though he was not yet through puberty, his voice wasn’t squeaky and young. The two girls, twins Harry suspected, turned and yelped as they had not even seen him. 

  
  


“I told you we should have checked before we just barged in, Parvati!” The first one said to the other, clearly Parvati. 

  
  


“Yes, well, I was in a rush. I didn’t want to deal with Su Li, she was being annoying, Padma.” Parvati said to her sister, Padma, before looking at Harry. “Sorry, we’re trying to stay away from an annoying, fellow first year.” She said, and Harry shrugged, before gesturing for them to sit. 

  
  


“Harry.” Harry said, extending his hand. The each shook it, and then sat down. “What state of India are you ladies from, if you don’t mind me asking.” He said, putting his bookmark in, and his book to the side. It was Padma who spoke, Harry noticed her hair was braided slightly different than her sister’s. 

  
  


“Bihar.” Padma said, before continuing. “You are the first to ask that, and not what we are doing attending an English school.” She said, and Harry shrugged softly. 

  
  


“Hogwarts is supposed to be one of the best in the world, your parents clearly want you getting the best education possible.” Harry said, smiling. “I know my parents want that, it’s why I am on this train.” He said, and that opened conversation for the rest of the train ride. The girls, after the announcement was made they were nearing Hogsmeade, noticed he had already been in his robes. They were glad they changed earlier, so they had more time to talk. 

  
They exited the train, their things to be brought in once they had been sorted, and walked to the docks where the first year boats awaited. They were talking softly when they heard a question, in what was quite possible one of the most pompous voices Harry had ever heard. 

  
  


“I hear Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts, has anyone seen him?” Came the haughty tones of one Draco Malfoy. Only those fresh in the magical community didn’t know who he was, mostly due to his father. 

  
  


“No one has seen him, Malfoy, bugger off.” Said a witch from the side, and Draco turned and huffed. 

  
  


“Watch it, Greengrass.” Draco said, crossing his arms. “It’s understandable that you haven’t see him, or likely care, you’re barely a pureblood as it is.” He said, looking down at her, though he was barely taller than she was. 

  
  


“Please, Malfoy.” She said, before turning her head and walking off, Draco grumbling and doing the same, with his two bookends behind him. Harry snickered softly to himself, before shrugging softly, they’d learn soon enough, no need to spoil the surprise. They made their way across the lake, and Harry sighed softly as he took a look at the beautiful castle, feeling the wards wash over him, giving him a sense of warmth and comfort. He had a feeling Hogwarts was going to be nothing short of spectacular. 

  
  


The first years waited, and Harry heard a bunch of fellow first years asking about him, rumors spreading about he would be getting there on a chariot of fire, or on the back of a tamed demon. Harry held in another snicker, those stories were outlandish, to say the least. He was grateful his father had put a stop to those stories being labeled as fact, they were clearly fiction and he had showed quite a few people just how angry a Flamel could be. 

  
  


Soon the kids were waiting to be sorted, names called one by one, until he heard his own and there were gasps. 

  
  


“Potter-Flamel, Harry.” Professor McGonagall said, surprised herself. He went up to the stool, greeted her, and sat down, the hat put over his head so he could be sorted. 

  
  


As he was being sorted, it was far from instantaneous, there were whispers all about the great hall. McGonagall was looking sharply at Dumbledore, and Severus was the only one close enough to speak, and it was in a whisper. 

  
  


“Flamel, Headmaster?” Severus drawled, and Dumbledore blinked. 

  
  


“Did I not tell you and Minerva?” Dumbledore questioned, and Severus blinked. “Ah… my apologies. Yes, Nicholas took the boy some years ago… made it legal shortly after that.” Dumbledore said, smiling and getting a low groan from Severus. Though, the dour man had to admit, Potter would not be insufferable, Nicholas Flamel was not the kind of man to allow such a thing. He was about to ask something again when the hat screamed out it’s choice. 

  
  


“ **RAVENCLAW!** ” The hat bellowed, and Harry got off of the stool, handing the hat back with a polite thank you. He then made his way to the table of Bronze and Blue, sitting with a small wave, and then grinning slightly at Padma, who had been sorted before him. She giggled softly and waved back, before they watched the rest of the sorting. 

  
  


Dumbledore made spoke some weird words, and then the tables were filled with glorious amounts of delicious food. Students of all years, at least those close enough, asked Harry all kinds of questions, and he answered as best as he could between eating. He was nothing if not polite, and a lot of the questions about where he had been were curbed due to his last name, as the Flamel’s were well known. 

  
  


After dinner Dumbledore spoke of the third floor corridor, and the painful death, and Harry held in a groan. Did he  _ really _ just tell a hall full of children not to do something? Had he ever been a parent? He sighed softly, he’d talk to his parents about it. He knew exactly what was being protected, it was his stone after all. 

  
  


~ETA~

  
  


“Are you losing your cognitive functions, Albus?” Nicholas asked his oldest apprentice, who seemed to fidget like a first year under scrutiny. “Telling the entire school, students mind you, that they are not to go towards the third floor corridor?” He asked, sighing softly when the older looking male frowned. 

  
  


“Truly, they will understand just how dire it is. How important it is to stay away.” Dumbledore said, and Pernelle scoffed lightly. 

  
“Albus, our son has already told us of how many people in his house alone, are wondering just what is in there.” Pernelle said, smiling softly. “Apparently there are already a few Gryffindors who have tried, yet those that have seemed to have forgotten the proper spell to open it up.” She said, and then glared softly. “It’s more than just a simple unlocking spell, right?” She asked, and he fidgeted again. 

  
  
  


“Sweet Merlin, Albus!” Nicholas exclaimed, exasperated. “I do hope it’s not just sitting behind the door, I might have to commit you to St. Mungo’s myself.” He said, and Dumbledore looked just the slightest bit affronted at that. 

  
  


“No, no.” Dumbledore said. “There are obstacles, traps to keep any would-be thief occupied.” He said, smiling brightly. 

  
  


“If these traps are anything like your… so-called blood wards, I might have to look at them myself.” Nicholas said, and Dumbledore  _ almost _ pouted. Flamel never let that go, and never would, it seemed. 

  
  


“I… will reevaluate the protections, Master Flamel.” Dumbledore said, and Nicholas huffed, but nodded. “I hope you know, however, that should Tom return… and perhaps lay his hands on the stone, the protections will destroy it.” He said, with true sorrowful sincerity in his voice. 

  
  


“It will be on no consequence, Albus. We have already taken care of that possibility.” Nicholas said, and Dumbledore nodded. His friend understood that of the next great adventure. He would miss him, but he understood it must be done, for the greater good. 

  
~ETA~

  
  


“I assume, Mr. Potter-Flamel, that you were taught by your surrogate father.” Prof. Severus Snape said, almost hovering around Harry’s work station. 

  
  


“Yes sir, I was taught by my father.” Harry said, politely correcting the man. “He has taught me the proper way to not only brew, but prepare for potion creation.” He said, and Snape hummed lightly. 

  
  


“Then you should have no issue today with your first potion.” Snape said, before turning to the class. “Instructions are on the board, you have two hours.” He said, before turning and going to his desk, the perfect vantage point to watch the students attempt to brew. His eyes surveyed, but for the most part they were concentrated on two students. His godson, Draco Malfoy, and The Potter-Flamel child. 

  
  


Even though he knew of the child’s upbringing, he was surprised when before he even began to brew, Potter-Flamel inspected his cauldron. He frowned in displeasure, and then went about cleaning it, properly. It took him twenty minutes before he seemed satisfied, and then he started to brew the current assignment. It would not take two hours to brew, Severus knew that, but he gave that time just in case. He took his eyes away from the clearly prepared child, and went about walk to make sure the other students in the class were performing properly. 

  
  


It was at the tail end of the lesson when he came up to Harry’s cauldron, humming softly and taking a small sample in a small cup. He flicked his wand and gave his hands some boils, nothing overly damaging or painful, and then applied the concoction to his hand. The boils vanished almost instantly, and he raised an eyebrow. 

  
  


“O for the day, Potter-Flamel. You may clean up and leave.” Snape said, and Harry nodded softly. He spoke a soft ‘thank you, sir.’ before he was out of the class. Severus decided then and there, he would more observe and think, before he let what would be venomous hatred dictate his dealings with the young student just because of his lineage.


End file.
